


Mexican Revelations

by ggwweenn1



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 11:31:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19722823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggwweenn1/pseuds/ggwweenn1
Summary: A little drabble about a vacation and Aziraphale realizing all the good Crowley has done for humans over the years.





	Mexican Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> Ok like, I like the Crowley was Raphael before he fell idea, but here me out, people just assumed Crowley was still an angel and whenever he did good stuff it was attributed to Raphael.

“What would you like to try first angel?” Crowley asked as they stepped out of the airport and hailed a cab. He was against it, but he wanted this to feel like a true, human, vacation for Aziraphale, so he had left the Bentley at home when they got on a plane to fly to Monterrey, Mexico. 

“Oh, well I was thinking, since we are starting in the more northern part of the country, that we could work our way through the regiones culinarias, or the different culinary regions...” Aziraphale started. He continued talking about how, due to the significant climate differences across the country the regional cuisine varied a lot from place to place as they got in a cab and headed to their hotel to drop of the small bags each of them had brought. 

Aziraphale’s bag, it would surprise no-one to find, contained exclusively books. He wanted to have something to do while Crowley slept for a few hours every night. He was also realizing that he really should have packed a change of clothes, seeing as Mexico was a lot hotter than London, and he looked very out of place in his gentleman’s get-up. Crowley’s bag, on the other hand, was a little more traditionally packed, at least in the sense that it was full of different types of sunglasses and most people brought sunglasses with them on vacation. Crowley did realize that he would have to dress differently for the occasion, and as such had miracled himself in a black burnt-out rolling stones t-shirt and snake skin flip-flops in the bathroom on the plane. Aziraphale thought he looked quite striking, with little bits of collarbone peaking out through holes in the top and his arms fully on display.

When they got to the hotel, Aziraphale was trying to remember the twenty-fifth variety of smoked cheese found in northern Mexico and Crowley was just smiling slightly at him. Crowley checked the two of them in, a nice room on an upper floor and they headed up. Once there, Crowley began trying on different sunglasses, trying to find which ones matched his “demon on a vacation” vibe the best while Aziraphale undressed and then miracled himself a vacation look.

“Really? You’re going with that,” The angel was wearing a beige hawiian shirt with blue flowers on it with tan khaki shorts. It made him look like a silly tourist, which thinking about it, Crowley thought was fitting.

“Yes, why? It’s tropical and fun, while still being a respectable color pallet. Do you not like it?” 

“No, no, I wouldn’t pick it, but you make it work,”

“Thank you dear,”

They spent what was left of the day wandering the city, Aziraphale picking up street food on the way, and admiring the sheer humanness of the locals. Crowley caused a peso to be stuck to the ground a couple of times just to cause a little mischief, earning him a good natured smack from his angel. They walked around for hours, Crowley sauntering and Aziraphale walking beside him, hand in hand, until they reached a nice little restaurant to stop at for dinner. 

They were seated inside, next to the open window, with a lovely view of the large church across the street. Aziraphale was remarking on the architectural differences between churches here and those in Spain when a statue in the church’s garden caught his eye.

“Crowley does the angel on that statue look familiar at all to you,”

Crowley made a noncommittal noise because of course the statue looked familiar, it looked like him. His cheekbones and long limbs and even serpentine eyes. He was holding a Caduceus and laying his hand on a young child. 

“Dear that’s you isn’t it? Why is your likeness in the garden of a Catholic church in Mexico?” 

“I uhhh have no idea. Maybe a mistake or something,”

“Crowley,” Azraphale raised an eyebrow, not falling for the demon’s misdirection.

“Alright, I might have spent some time over here saving people from pandemics during the 16th century,” Crowley admitted, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding his companion’s pointed gaze

“Ah, so that’s what you were while I was dealing with the fall out of the American revolution. I knew you had to have been up to something important,” Aziraphale said as he looked again at the beautiful statue of his best friend. It really captured his beauty in a way he had never seen before.

“You aren’t surprised?” Crowley said, eyes wide.

“Of course not dear, you may act tough, and like making people feel bad for your own amusement, but deep deep down you care. You always have, especially for children,” the angel answered, a soft smile lighting up his face as he looked over from the statue to the fallen angel himself. Crowley’s lip twitched up in return, softening for the angel who knew him better than he knew himself.

“So what were they calling this healing angel?” Aziraphale asked after their appetizers were brought over.

“Oh I just went by my old name,” he took a beat to drink the fun cocktail that had been brought over by their waitress, a charming little lady named Maria, “Raphael,”


End file.
